


The Parting Glass

by SorchaCahill



Series: Hawke's Nightmare [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Death, F/M, Grief, Loss, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaCahill/pseuds/SorchaCahill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been hard for Sebastian to let Hawke go to Skyhold without him but he knew there would be no stopping her. He hated letting her go but she had always came back.</p>
<p>***WARNING: spoilers for Dragon Age Inquisition****</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Parting Glass

Sebastian stared down at the papers in his hand without really seeing it. To say he had been distracted ever since Éowyn had left for Skyhold was putting it mildly. He had wanted to go with her, had almost done so until she had reminded him that he was needed here and that she was more than capable of taking care of herself and that Stroud would be with her anyway. Still, the guilt plagued him.

Four weeks, she’d been gone four weeks and he hadn’t heard from her in two. He’d had to keep himself busy to keep his mind off what she was doing, what she was dealing with. He hadn’t wanted to believe Varric’s letter when it came. It didn’t seem possible. They had killed Corypheus, left his corpse to rot in that Grey Warden prison, how could that, _thing_ still be alive?

Éowyn had already been planning on leaving, needing to figure out what was going on with the Grey Wardens. They had argued about that, he remembered. She had already made sure her sister was safe, he said, why did she need to do more?

“I can’t stand by and do nothing, Sebastian,” she had said. “As long as there’s something threatening the Wardens, my sister is at risk.”

After that he knew there was no arguing with her. Éowyn was nothing if not fiercely protective of her family, willing to do whatever it took to keep them safe. Though it frustrated him to no end as it tended to put her in harm’s way, it was one of the things he loved about her.

Sebastian dropped the papers on his desk, crying mercy, knowing he’d be useless until he got this restlessness out of his system. Maybe he should go down to the practice yard, release some of this pent up energy by skewering the practice dummies with arrows.

Why in Andraste’s name hadn’t she written?

Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, Sebastian tried to ease the stiffness there. Yes, and hour or so on the practice range would do him wonders.

A scrape of a footstep at the doorway caused every muscle to tightened. He reached for the dagger he kept at the small of his back. He may be the Chantry adviser in Starkhaven but that didn’t mean he still wasn't a target. It was after midnight and visitors at this time did not bode well.

“Please forgive me, your Highness, but you have a visitor. I tried to tell him to come back in the morning, but he was quite, persistent.”

Sebastian turned to find Orana standing in the doorway. Even after all these years she was still a skittish little thing, so eager to please, so desperate not to offend, and still got flustered whenever she was complimented on her cooking.

When he saw who stood next to Orana, Sebastian didn’t even bother to sigh. If there was one thing Varric Tethras was good at it was talking and using that gift of gab to wheedle his way in.

“It’s okay, Orana. You go on to bed. I’ll see Master Tethras out.”

The elf hovered nervously at the doorway before dipping into a curtsy and taking herself off. Sebastian leaned against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t exactly happy to see the dwarf. They hadn’t always been on the best of terms, their shared friendship with Éowyn the only tie between them. He had kept Éowyn’s whereabouts a secret however, and for that Sebastian would forever be grateful.

“To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Varric? I can’t exactly say that it’s good to see you. Have you come…” Sebastian stopped in mid-sentence, finally taking in the dwarf’s appearance. He looked drawn and pale and the usual half smirk that he typically wore was nowhere in existence. There was a tightness around his eyes that Sebastian had only seen twice before. Once right after they had confronted his brother and the other after that abomination had destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall.

“What is it?” Something lurched in his stomach, a dull rushing noise filling his ears. “What’s happened?”

“Maybe we should sit down, Sebastian.”

Varric calling him by his given name did nothing to calm the storm rising within him. It did the exact opposite. He couldn’t bring himself to move even if he wanted to.

“Where is she? Where is Éowyn?” His words came out softly but tightly. Fear was a horrible, nasty thing and it caused the most rational of people to do irrational things. He himself wasn’t exactly rational when his family was in harm’s way.

“Sebastian, please, sit down.”

“Where is. My wife?”

“I… I’m sorry, Sebastian.”

It was only through sheer strength of will that he was able to stay standing. No, it couldn’t be. She couldn’t… she couldn’t be gone.

His arms fell uselessly to his side, all the breath going out of him. The roar in his head grew louder. He knew Varric was speaking but he heard none of what he was saying. Turning, he placed his hands on the desk, his palms flattening out on the cool surface. He watched without really seeing as the skin blanched white.

“She did it to save all of us.”

Sebastian smashed his fist into his desk, blood painting his knuckles as pain sang up his fist. He welcomed the pain. It helped to dull the pain that was lancing through his heart.

“Why? Why did she do this?”

“She said she was fixing her mistake. That she had failed to stop Corypheus before and she wasn't going to fail again. She knew that the Inquisitor is the only one who could do that. Hawke, Éowyn, sacrificed herself in order to make sure that would happen.”

The roar had become a maelstrom in his head. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand was around Varric’s neck as he slammed him against the wall.

“This is your fault. She would have never been there if it wasn't for you.”

“You think I don’t know that? This started with that blighted idol. Nothing has gone right since we found that thing.” Varric didn’t offer any resistance when Sebastian slammed him against the wall again. “I tried to keep her out of this. You know I did. But once we knew Corypheus was involved…”

As quickly as it came, the anger leached out of him. Suddenly realizing that he was holding the man a foot above the ground. Slowly he lowered him down, carefully removing his fingers from Varric’s throat. As he stepped back, he saw the red marks ringing his throat, remorse instantly filling him. Spending over ten years in the Chantry had tempered him, calmed the tempest that had raged within him but there were still times, times when his family was at risk that he lost his hold on that tempest.

“I’m sorry.”

Varric rubbed his neck, a grimace spreading across his face. “It’s nothing less than what I deserve. Not the first time in the last month that someone wanted to beat the shit out of me. And I deserved both of them.”

Sebastian stumbled back several feet, collapsing into a chair. Running his hands through his hair, the enormity of what had happened finally hit him. Maker, it wasn’t fair. They had overcome so much: his waffling and conflicting feelings and her reluctance to open her heart. It had taken years, but they had overcome it, had built a life together and now it was over.

“Are you sure? Are you sure she’s dead.”

“Maker, I hope so. Forgive me, but I hope so. Walking in the Fade, _physically_ being in the Fade, it’s not something that anyone should have to endure. You can’t know what it was like, Sebastian. I wouldn't wish that existence on my worst enemy, that being my brother.”

“Her body’s still there.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes.”

“How can I lay her to rest without it?”

“By honoring her sacrifice. Her memory. It’s the least we can do.”

Sebastian breathed in and exhaled, his entire being unsteady. How was he going to live with this? How was he going to explain this? So many impossible things had happened in his life and he’d survived those; he wasn't sure he could survive this.

“Poppa? Who is that?”

Sebastian’s head snapped up. His daughter stood in the doorway, her bare feet curled over each other. How many times had they told her to wear slippers if she was going to walk the halls at night? Her eyes, so like his own, took in the room, taking in all the information and processing it. It was a look he’d seen on Éowyn’s face so many times.

His heart lurched. Sweet Andraste, how was he going to explain this?

“This is Varric, sweetheart. He’s, a friend, of your mother's and mine.”

“Where’s your beard?”

Despite everything, Sebastian had to choke back a laugh. That bluntness. Another trait of her mother’s she had inherited.

“It didn’t like being on my face and decided to cover my chest instead,” Varric told her, his voice soft.

The look she gave him said she didn’t believe his bullshit..

“Meghan, what are you doing up?”

“I had a bad dream. Momma was hurt.”

Both men inhaled sharply and Sebastian felt his face drain of all color. He couldn’t do this. How could he tell his daughter that her mother was dead? Once he told her, her life would forever be changed.

There was no way he could lie to her. Even though she was nearly three-years-old, her bullshit detector was highly developed.

He remembered when Éowyn had told him she was pregnant. It was the morning before everything had exploded in Kirkwall and the whole world had gone mad. She said she was about four months along. He remembered looking down at her, incredulous. He remembered thinking how could she possibly be four months along when her waist hadn’t thickened at all. She had laughed at him, saying that it had been the same way with her mother.

Once he had recovered from the shock, joy had filled his entire being. Now, he clung to that memory. He would need it for what was to come.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story sprang out of a 3 am delusion where I couldn't sleep. I'm so sorry. If it helps, this doesn't really happen.


End file.
